Rogue Planet

"Nobody can hear a scream in the vacuum of space, or so they say," Jayda mused while working persistently, but ineffectively, on the saviour pod’s unfamiliar interface. The Chianina’s synchronised red strobe lights and alarm klaxons, maintained their insistent pulsing drone, urging her to abandon ship.

“So, nobody will judge me as I shit myself on the way down!” she nervously quipped, trying to diffuse the tension welling within her. There was little information on the catastrophe befalling the salvage operation, so Jayda’s hope that there may be a remedy, warred with her fear of evacuating to the asteroid below.

But orders were orders.

Her earpiece chimed, responding to her jest, “Noted, the Icarus armour’s recycling systems will discretely manage any untimely biological evacuations.”

Jayda couldn’t help a snort of laughter, “Mai, a joke? I’m impressed!”

“Negative, I was attempting to reassure. Your elevated glucocorticoids may impair your cognitive performance.”

To emphasise the point, Mai uploaded a series of diagnostics to Jayda’s HUD, lighting up her visual field like a Christmas tree, and distracting her from the task at hand. Jayda let out a stream of expletives, that would’ve made a core-world pirate blush, as she botched the priming sequence, and received a red status return from the pod’s interface.

Wrestling her temper into submission, she replied through gritted teeth, “Thank you. Very thoughtful. Please stop analysing my gluco-thingamabobs! Clear all data except the priming sequence, log, and translation matrix.”

“Compliance.”

Another shockwave pulsed through the ship, and the floor beneath Jayda bucked wildly. The launch room was thrown into throbbing red relief as the main power cut out. Sparks popped from shorting electrical conduits, throwing up dazzling pyrotechnic displays, and the hiss of escaping gasses began to fill the room with an artificial fog.

“Dammit!” Jayda cursed, as the violent motion broke her boots magnetic grip on the steel floor plates, sending her tumbling backwards. Her arms flailed around, and legs kicked, trying to regain control in the weightless environment. Her Icarus armour responded, igniting small thrusters on her backpack to arrest her tumble, pushing her upright: next boosting power to her boot’s electromagnets, swiftly pulling her feet to the floor.

A distant boom echoed up from the cargo sections. The Chianina let out a long mournful groan, as its structure flexed and recovered from the repeated stress.

Jayda glanced nervously at the new red readouts collecting on her HUD, while moving back across the launch bay, to the saviour pod’s control panel. The fog was a coolant leak; ammonia gas levels were rising. It was of no concern. Icarus armour was environmentally sealed, giving her ample protection from the corrosive gas. She gave herself a mental pat on the back for suiting up before priming the pod. Cocooned in her armour, she still had time.

Pausing in front of the panel, she breathed in deeply through her nose, exhaling slowly through her mouth. As the fog from her breath cleared from her visor, she imagined her fear and frustration being carried away with it. Main power re-established itself, the lighting grid returned, the ominous red strobe lighting receded. Jayda continued calmly, and methodically, trying to decipher the pods priming sequence.

Sequential tasks such as this would normally take moments: usually actioned remotely by the crews assistant AI, the multi-utility autonomous interface - Mai. However, the incident that triggered the order to abandon ship, or some sort of failsafe on the alarm itself, was blocking all remote network access. Mai was locked out, functionally deaf and blind to all the Chianina’s systems.

The problem this presented Jayda, was in overcoming the lack of standardisation, and rapidly evolving technology, of the burgeoning deep space commercial fleet. The vastness of deep space was in the middle of a stellar goldrush. The proverb, ’haste makes waste,’ was centuries old, but haste was currently the overriding corporate concern. Seemingly, access to practically inexhaustible stellar resources did little to moderate age-old behaviours. Corporations vied to expand their fleets and secure new Solar territories, denying them to their competitors. This confrontational race between fleets, meant interfacing systems, such as Mai, were an increasingly essential bridging tool; enabling experienced crews to apply their skills to unfamiliar systems & technologies.

In addition to the disconnected data networks, communications were also offline. Captain Venturis’ message from the Redwing, ordering her 3-person salvor team to abandon ship, was Jayda’s last crew contact. She had been unable to raise her team using Mai, or the Chianina’s communication network. Even the captain’s message was incomplete; cut short when an explosion in the cargo area triggered the Chianina’s system lockdowns.

The lack of comms made Jayda concerned for her team. Her anxiety was heightened when neither Pops or Charlton crossed her path, while she secured her station and suited up. But much to her relief, when she reached the launch bay, a saviour pod had already jettisoned. Irritatingly, with the communication systems down, Jayda couldn’t ask for help with the priming sequence.

"No use crying over spilled milk," she thought as she worked, then another question came to mind: "Were both seats in the pod taken?"

It seemed unlikely that both Pops and Charlton, could have suited up and jettisoned before she arrived. Pops in particular: He had been working in the cargo section and had much further to run. But, Jayda supposed, "the cargo section was ground zero, he may have had a head start." Either way, he would have arrived by now. The question was moot. Jayda resolved that it would probably answer itself later at the rendezvous.

“There won’t be a later if I don’t get this damned coffin nail primed for launch!” She muttered in exasperation, screwing her face up in distaste for the saviour pods unfortunate moniker.

Initially, the nickname may have come from the typical shape of a pod: a long shaft of irregular hexagonal cross section, tapering to a point at its nose, and flaring at its tail for the main engine. Constructed as a windowless hardened steel shell, for maximum durability, it certainly resembled a nail. However, the reason astronauts called them coffin nails, was much more morbid. An occupant was more likely to be found dead than alive. The reason, stellar logistics.

Pods were sized to carry two people, and support life for three days: air, water and heat were the priorities. With a single occupant, six or seven days was possible. All the pod’s systems were hydrogen based: Its combustion powered the main engine, while fuel cells provided heat, power, and supplementary water. So, with good resource management, survival times could be extended a little further.

But stellar distances are vast. By comparison, the speed of a signal, or a responding ship, are relatively slow. The likelihood of help arriving within a week was practically zero. The invention of stellar bridge technology, humanities first method of faster than light travel, was starting to help. A reasonably comprehensive grid of gateways, among the core worlds, was improving response times. But in the Kuiper belt, viable gate sites were still being prospected.

Prospecting was the Redwings primary mission. They had been scouting for a new gate site, when the Chianina’s SOS had been received. As such, the Redwing was a long way from the nearest gate, over three weeks at full speed. Assistance was unlikely to arrive any time soon.

"However," Jayda thought, "The Redwing is here, and will pick us up."

She’d completed the pod’s prerequisite safety checks, all that remained was to trigger the transfer of hydrogen, oxygen, air, and water. She couldn’t help but glance over at the coolant leak. It reinforced the good reasoning behind this process. If hydrogen had leaked in such a fashion, the launch bay would now be a bomb on a hair trigger.

With more hope than expectation, she hit the execute command and waited for the system response.

“Yes!” Jayda shouted, punching the air. The final readout turned green, transfer status bars appeared, the inner airlock door slid open, and a 60 second countdown began.

“We are in business!” She exclaimed. “Mai, are you able to pair with the pods systems?”

“Stand by… Pairing”

While Mai worked on interfacing with the pod, Jayda’s moment of glee faded, replaced again with a nervous knot of tension in her stomach. As she listened to the groans, bangs and clangs coming from the Chianina, her thoughts drifted back to the launched pod.

Activating the external speaker on her helmet, she thought, "here goes nothing," and pressed the button for internal comms: “This is Jayda to Charlton and Pops, come in.” She waited a moment, before repeating.

No response.

Jayda considered for a moment, then added, “I’ll have a pod primed and ready for launch in… forty seconds. I’ll wait for as long as I can. Hurry!”

“System paired.” Mai announced, transferring the pod’s status readout to Jayda’s HUD: 23 seconds till the prestart sequence would commence, after another 15 seconds it would be ready to launch.

“Thank you. Could you try hailing the Redwing, all channels, all frequencies?” Jayda didn’t expect Mai to succeed. But hoped their luck might be turning a corner.

“Compliance.” Chimed Mai, but Jayda was distracted by a rumbling noise nearby.

The wheel lock on the bulkhead door behind her was spinning, clanging to a stop when the cleats had fully withdrawn. With a screech the door swung open, the build-up of ammonia vapour poured out into the corridor. As the mist cleared it revealed a fully suited member of the salvage team.

“Pops?” Jayda asked, stepping toward the figure.

She guessed it was him from the generous waistline, but something was wrong. The suits hazard protocols were engaged. The armour was controlling his posture, and had drawn a blast shield across his visor, hiding his face; leaving Jayda to stare into a glowing red compound lens array.

Jayda took another tentative step, repeating, “Pops?”

She noticed small shiny spheres hovering above his right shoulder. Looking down, she could see a large shimmering red globule, clinging to the surface of his armour, partially obscuring two deep rents running across his torso. The faceplate snapped open revealing Pops, his breathing laboured, eyes screwed shut, his grey clammy face contorted with pain.

Jayda moved quickly to help him, he opened his eyes and forced a small smile. Placing his hands on the doorway for support, he looked back down the corridor and moved to enter the launch room. He froze mid-step and turned quickly back to face Jayda, his eyes wide with terror.

“Go!” Was all he had time to say, before a boom echoed along the corridor.

The brutal impact knocked him sideways: A starburst of blood globules rippled out in all directions. They bounced off Jayda’s visor as she snatched; trying to grab him before he drifted down the corridor. With a choked sob of dismay, she saw that a large chunk of his chest had been torn away. His innards slowly floated free through the chasm, while blood bubbled out of his mouth, gathering inside his helmet. His eyes, no longer focussed, stared blankly down the corridor at his killer as he drifted away.

“Combat protocols engaged.” Announced Mai in Jayda’s earpiece.

“No!” Jayda protested, as her blast shield snapped closed across her visor, feeding visual and analytical data to her HUD, and painting her visual field in sharply contrasting green tones. Absent immediate action from Jayda, the suit took all necessary steps to preserve her life.

Grabbing the bulkhead door, they slammed it closed, spinning the wheel lock in quick fluid motions. When the cleats had fully engaged, they braced and gripped the wheel with both hands, twisting hard. Jayda felt a surge of heat from the backpack as full power was directed into the suit’s servo motors. The wheel lock groaned in protest before shearing off.

Without pause they turned and leaned forward, releasing their boots mag locks and floating perpendicular to the door. When horizontal they kicked off from the door, propelling themselves across the room and into the airlock. Tucking into a ball they did a half forward roll before twisting and elongating, entering the pod backwards and landing neatly in the seat as the countdown announced, “five.”

Jayda had never experienced an Icarus suit's combat protocols before; she found it both incredible and disconcerting. All the suit’s systems acted in concert. Balancing power to the suit’s servos and maglocks with perfect synchronicity, so every action was smooth and controlled. The thing that disturbed her, was that she wasn’t in full control. She couldn’t help wondering how far the protocols would go to preserve her life.

“Four.”

Her reverie was broken by a series of loud bangs, as Pops’ killer began trying to break through the bulkhead door. As the pod began securing her for launch, Jayda could see the thick metal deforming under the metronomic strikes. The seats auto-harness snaked across her armour and mag locked to its interface ports.

“Three.”

Jayda felt herself pulled back as the auto-harness tightened, locking her in place. Her eyes widened in horror as the cleats around the door began to break. A gap opened, armoured fingers poked through, and the thick metal door groaned as it was slowly, but inexorably, peeled to one side, like foil from a ration pack. The shadow of Pops’ killer began to move into the doorway…

“Two.”

The airlock and pod doors slammed closed in concert, ready for take-off, cutting off Jayda’s view before the assailant crystalised. The pod began to vibrate as the engines fired and roared into life. The environmental layer inside her Icarus armour inflated, further restricting her motion. Simultaneously, her helmet presented a mouth tube with gum shield for her to bite down on.

“One.”

As she did so, a screech of tortured metal announced that the airlocks door had fared no better than the bulkheads. Jayda’s heart shot into her mouth. "Who is this maniac?" She thought, panic rising. They were risking opening the ship to the void just to get at her. She wondered, how long it would take to cross the last few meters to the pod?

“Launch!”

Jayda couldn’t be sure, but she thought she heard armoured fingers scrape across the pod’s door, as the brutal surge of acceleration propelled her away from the Chianina.

The descent to the asteroid, Fissilis, was a bruising blur that, too Jayda, appeared to last an eternity.

She’d quipped about screaming as she dropped: In reality, she could do little of anything. Even though her body was tightly restrained, her muscles were taught, straining against the negative g-forces pushing the blood from her lower body into her brain. She felt the inflated lining in her armour pulsing, using a milking action to pump her blood back down. Regardless, she began to suffer from red-out and a crimson glow crept over her vision. Mercifully, as her senses numbed and consciousness faded, the acceleration tapered off.

Panting as the pressure on her body eased, and her senses returned, Jayda tried to focus and make sense of the information on the rattling pod’s readouts.

Fissilis’ name was literal. A collision, at some point in its history, had fractured the asteroid, breaking it into three parts. Somehow, they had retained a coherent relationship. The largest two, orbiting in a tight parallel path, with opposing rotations. The smallest fragment orbited the largest of the three like a moon. Smaller meteoroids and micro-debris shared its orbit, tracing a vertical ellipse around the large asteroids’ waist.

Mai had selected a zone on the smaller, but safer, of the two large fragments for their landing. The gravitational force exerted by both was negligible. However, the higher rotation speed of the largest, made a safe landing more challenging. Also, collisions in the orbiting micro-debris, frequently cannoned meteorites to its surface. The pods sensors were mapping the asteroids surface, seeking an optimum landing site, while Mai analysed a gravitational anomaly.

Although still fuddled, Jayda concentrated hard on this latter analysis. Mai was assessing the anomalies affect on the finely balanced ballet, that had kept Fissilis coherent in the centuries since its first discovery. But Jayda wondered if it was the reason the Chianina had drifted so far off course, becoming stranded? Or was it the haven the missing crew had fled to?

No sooner had the thoughts formed and a surge of lateral g-forces stole them away. Mai had identified a landing site and changed course. With a final burst of deceleration, Mai manoeuvred the pod into orbit above a deep fissure in the icy surface of Fissilis: firing grapnels into the methane ice cliffs, the pod carefully winched itself down to rest in the crevasse.

As the main engines shut down, the auto-harness released its grip on Jayda. Able to move again, she twisted and flexed in the pod’s narrow confines: loosening her aching muscles and chasing away the tingling sensation in her extremities.

“As requested, I have tried to raise the Redwing, all channels, all frequencies. No response.” Announced Mai.

“I forgot I’d asked you to do that.” Jayda acknowledged, her mind wandering back to the launch room. As tears threatened, she quickly asked, “What of the other pod? Charlton must be nearby. Are you reading his transponder?”

“Negative.”

Jayda sighed, considering for a moment, then asked, “Mai… review but don’t replay the logs from my suit.” She knew, at some point, she would have to come to terms with the loss of her friend. But not now. “Can you identify who attacked us, and what’s jamming our communications?”

Jayda was unsurprised when she answered, “Negative. Insufficient data.”

“Insufficient data…” Jayda parroted, “Okay, I better go outside and have a look.”

“Negative. Sending a distress signal is your highest priority.”

“Agreed.” Jayda had predicted this objection, explaining: “Before calling for help, I need to find out what they’re walking into. We have insufficient data!”

After a pause, Mai acquiesced, “Compliance.” Decompressing the pod, Mai equalised it’s pressure with the void outside. When a vacuum was achieved, Mai opened the outer door and powered down the pod to conserve resources, putting it in standby mode.

Leaning forward was enough to propel Jayda to the entrance. Reaching behind her, she pulled two chord lines from spools on her belt, latching them to the pod, tethering her to her temporary sanctuary. Mai analysed the terrain around her, adding graphic overlays to her HUD. Picking her target Jayda gently pushed: Floating free of the pod, she ascended the cliff face. When she reached the top of the fissure, quick bursts from her armour’s thrusters, nudged her onto the cliff edge.

Jayda surveyed her immediate surroundings. The surface was a riven landscape. Dark precipitous crags, glistening with thorny shards of ice, jutted up from a web of ravines, fissures and cracks. Double checking the readouts on her HUD, Jayda re-oriented herself to the direction of the Chianina. With a gentle kick, she boosted herself towards the top of the nearest crag, hoping to gain a line of sight to it. As her suit once again guided her onto the ridge, she gathered the ends of her tether close; avoiding the sharp splinters of rock and ice that surrounded her as she landed. Looking up, with relief, she could see the Chianina.

Like all modern space craft, the Chianina had been constructed in an orbital shipyard. Free from atmospheric considerations, there was no reason to finesse the form. The utilitarian Chianina was therefore an inelegant brute. A slab sided, stub nosed crew pod, encircled by six chubby but powerful engines, formed the main tractor unit. Behind trailed a daisy chain of modular cargo pods, connected by a central gangway.

“Where’s our attacker, or the Redwing?” Jayda asked absently, studying the void around the Chianina. She could see no signs of wreckage, so looked for signs of engine flare instead. The ships had been docked but, the Redwing would have been forced to break off when the explosions began.

“In an attack, standard protocol is to evade.” Observed Mai.

“Okay.” Jayda acknowledged, unconvinced. Captain Venturi was more protective of his crew than his charter.

The knot in her stomach was growing tighter with each passing moment. The loss of the data network & communications, Pops’ killer, the missing escape pod, and now the Redwing: All questions with no answers. She went back to studying the Chianina.

“Mai, target the Chianina and magnify.”

“Compliance.”

In the enlarged view, it became clear that some of the cargo sections had been removed. The Chianina had a train of 48 fully laden container pods when they arrived. Jayda now counted 41. As she counted another explosion silently erupted, another cargo section broke loose from the chain; lazily drifting away from the hauler.

“So, it is pirates.” Jayda decided, waiting. The horizon line of the asteroid was rising quickly; she hoped to catch a glimpse of the pirate vessel, reaping its spoils, before it blocked her view. Jayda watched, incredulous, as the cargo pod reoriented itself. As the horizon swallowed her view, she could have sworn it had begun moving away.

“What the hell? Cargo pods don’t have engines. Do they?”

“Negative.”

“Another question!” Jayda complained, “I’d hoped to empty my bucket, not fill it!”

Sighing, she checked her HUD; it would be hours till the Chianina rose on the opposite horizon. She couldn’t wait for answers, she would need to return to the pod and send a distress signal. But first, she turned to take in the view on the rising horizon.

Jayda stared, enraptured, at the beauty and majesty of her vista. A speckled backdrop of stars twinkled through gossamer thin blankets of gas clouds: their elegant folds lit up in blues, greens, and gold by the light of the sun, as they rippled across the stars. Cast in sharp silhouette, the brutish meteoroids orbiting Fissilis, lazily twisted, tumbled, and spun, as they traced an elegant arc overhead to the rugged horizon.

The laws of the universe played an elegant dance before Jayda’s eyes, and for a long moment she was captivated by it.

“Forty-five minutes remaining.” Mai chimed.

The spell broke, Jayda was galvanised into action. She drank in one last look before leaving. But as she turned away, she froze!

A dark silhouette began to claw its way over the horizon.

Instinctively, but futilely, Jayda crouched low among the tall ice shards.

A shadowed orb rose to loom menacingly over the horizon.

Jayda scrunched her eyes closed expecting, when she opened them again, for the spectral orb to be gone; she would then ask Mai about the effects of extreme negative g-force on the brain. Opening first one, then the other, the unknown planet was still there.

Banded in dark browns and greys, it presented an ugly, pugilistic, visage: its worn surface, broken and pitted with impact scars. Some of the impacts still glowed with heat, the planets core oozing through spiderwebs of cracks in its crust. The rising world rotated vertically on its axis, moving perpendicular to the ecliptic plane.

Scrolling through visual settings and magnifications on her HUD, Jayda observed at least 2 moons orbiting. She was certain she could see pinpricks of light banding the surface. Life? It was too far away to be certain.

After a long time, staring, she asked, “Mai, what am I looking at?”

“Unknown.”

“Clarify?”

“There are no records of any planets passing through this region of the solar system.”

“Theories…” Jayda pushed,

“A Rogue Planet.”

Jayda’s heart skipped a beat, then started to pound in her chest, “the gravitational anomaly.” Her mind began to arrange facts, and draw conclusions, around this new data.

Another shadow, much closer, rose into view. This one, dagger like, wrapped around three pinpricks of light. The ship moved impossibly fast, no sooner had it emerged, it was gone, thrusting from the horizon toward the rogue planet.

Heart pounding in her ears, Jayda jumped from the ridge, and turned, activating the motor on her tether. She was reeled rapidly down into the fissure, and into the waiting pod. When her backside hit the seat the pods systems came online, and Mai sealed the door.

Without pausing for the pod to repressurise, Jayda set to work.

“Mai, prepare the emergency beacon and begin recording.”

“Compliance.”

“Mayday, mayday, mayday. This is Jayda Drakos, first engineer of the Polestar Industries vessel: Redwing. Mayday, mayday, mayday.”

“Request immediate emergency assistance. Possible unknown hostile contact. Repeat: Uniform–Hotel–Charlie!”

“Location: Planet side, KBO 639: Fissilis. Repeat, planet side, kilo-bravo-oscar-six-three-nine: Fissilis.”

“First transmission: 2343-05-18-Tango-15:32:46.”

“Appending all available data and commencing video log:”

After a brief pause to gather her thought’s, Jayda began:

“I have more questions than answers right now, so I’ll start at the beginning. Our mission started well…”